Bears in the Driveway

At the Alaska Bar

I haven’t blogged in a while. But, this has nothing at all to do with laziness. Juneau, Alaska, with it’s jagged mountain peaks, quaint and cozy downtown area and welcoming populace forces you to be out and busy. All the time.

Plus, this time of year, the sun is rising at 5:30 AM and not setting until well after eight (it'll be light for about eighteen hours a day, at peak daylight). Come home from a long day of work, and still have the opportunity to take the dogs for a walk through the neighborhood, or down to Sandy Beach, which is only two miles away.

When I lived in Portland, I didn’t hike. We didn’t hike. We wanted to, but, we never did. It seemed too difficult. Here, nothing seems too difficult. I can’t explain it and there’s probly no logical reason for it. I still have financial obligations, I still have a 45 plus hour per week job, I still a wife and a family to take care of. But, it’s just… easier.

And that ease defies logic. Sure, there’s no such thing as a traffic jam, but there’s also no such thing as overnight mail (unless you want have the package shipped to or from by plane), groceries arrive once a week by ferry and, by Sunday, the pickins are slim… even at Costco, the internet has plenty of days where it is spotty, and the weather is extreme. Nothing about living here in Juneau should be easy. But, it is. For us. Maybe it’s just the change we needed in our lives.

Fish Creek

One of our favorite shows before we moved here was Northern Exposure. Now that we live here, we are re-watching the show and are amazed by the way it captures the quirky nature of the people, the way it captures the scenic beauty (even though the show was actually filmed in Washington State), and just… it feels like watching our friends and neighbors. We say this to each other all the time.

We are like the less whiny version of Joel Fleischman.

Sandy Beach

Fish Creek

You see, we didn’t just move from one state to another, we moved from one culture to another. Here, we have to watch out for crows the size of a small dog, for Porcupines sleeping in trees, bald eagles (which are everywhere! The main drag through town, Egan, has a bald eagle or two perched atop every street sign) looking for easy meals in the form of house cats and small dogs, for nasty little red squirrels, the overly aggressive cousins of the grey squirrels inhabiting Portland and the rest of the Northwest.

And bears. The bears are awake now.

About a week or so ago, I was letting the little dog out to go to the bathroom. This was about 9:30 in the evening. As I was letting her out, the upstairs neighbor (we are the downstairs unit of what is essentially a duplex) said to me “Good evening. There’s a bear outside in the driveway.”

A bear in the driveway. That’s not something you hear or experience every day in Portland. Or, really, ever.

No sooner had he said this then both the dogs bolted from the comfort and safety of the living room and up to the gate, where they proceeded to bark their heads off. I grabbed my camera and ran to the gate, but no bear. Not anymore. Not even a flash.

I was exhilarated and disappointed. I wanted to see my bear!

But I knew he’d be back. Bears patrol an area in search of food and, this time year, fresh out of hibernation, they are hungry and cranky.

Fish Creek

In Portland, we thought nothing of walking the dogs after dark. So, last night, just after sunset, the little one made her way to the gate, asking for a walk. This is also new behavior for her. She seemed indifferent to walks in Portland. So, we leashed her up, along with her big sissy and made our way out the street… and a voice was telling me to be alert.

Sure enough, about five minutes into our walk, I look back and see a dark shadow lumbering about fifty yards behind us. It was clear the shadow had come from our driveway, which is part of his nightly patrol. I said to Andrea, “There’s a bear.” And I pointed. She couldn’t see it. Neither could I. 

This was disconcerting, especially considering that the bear was between our house and us. We would have to go past it in order to get home.

Sandy Beach

Then, I saw it again, lumbering, very much like a dog. Closer now. Within 30 yards. There was no doubt. This was a black bear. Perhaps a juvenile, about five feet in height. Not huge, but certainly big enough to do some damage.

Fish Creek

Bella, the big dog, starts going ballistic, barking like mad. Andrea’s bear survival training kicked in as she starts waving her arms and stomping her feet and yelling “I’m a bear!” and the bear once again disappears, this time up the hill.

Losing sight of a bear when you are out in the open, with no weapons of any kind, is not one my list of things to do again.

Sandy Beach

Sandy Beach

But, being fish out of water, we don’t know what to do. So, we call our landlord. This made sense at the time. He assured us that most black bears are afraid of people and want nothing to do with them. Yes, I’m thinking, tell that to the guy who had his eye yanked out of his socket by a black bear here in Juneau last year. Small comfort. “We always walk around with bear belts and bear sprays” he said to me. Great advice. Not helpful at the moment.

Fish Creek

But, it felt comforting to have someone on the phone with us. And, we walked our way back to our place, my eyes glued to the hill, Andrea making as much noise and possible.

And, we were home. Safe and sound.

We had been waiting for a bear story. Now we had one. It’s just too bad I didn’t have a chance to take a picture. But don’t worry. There will be more chances. Of this, I am certain. 

Oh, also, no more dog walks in the dark. Lesson learned.

We're All in This Together

Just a drive through Mendenhall Valley

I have only been in Juneau since December first but I already know that this is unlike any other place I have lived or visited. People say here that we are all in this together. It’s not a bad thing. Juneau is not something to be endured. It something to be experienced. Juneau is beautiful, small, and isolated. To leave town, you either have to take the ferry or fly or, be like bears in Haines and swim. But, really, with swimming, you aren’t going to get far. Even if we take the cold out of the equation. 

This isolation, this sense of being all together in a rugged environment, with cold winters and tourist filled summers, really affects how you treat your fellow man. I’ve noticed that my normally short fuse is getting just a little bit longer and, when I have gotten upset with someone, I have been quick to apologize. This is a state capital, yet, with a population or right around 30,000 folks spread over a mind boggling 3,255 square miles (my home town of Portland is only 145 square miles) with only 91 miles of paved road, running into your neighbor, your bank teller, your pastor, your bartender is an everyday occurrence. It helps keep your attitude in check. It helps you fake that smile and that friendly greeting and what I’ve discovered is that it those faux-happy expressions into true expressions of friendliness ad gratitude.

Starting to make some friends, the festive type. 

Whether you live in Downtown or Douglas Island (where I live), or in the Valley, or Out the Road, people seem pretty much the same: laid back, easy going, salt of the earth, just, good people. I’m not used to that. I’m used to the hipster snobbery of Portland, Oregon. I’m into the me-first attitude and the what’s mine is mind and what’s yours is also mine attitude. I'm used to those with friendly faces and daggers for your back. This attitude, the Juneau attitude, is refreshing and really gives that feeling of everyone being in this together.

Like many folks, before moving here, I sold most of my belongings… especially my furniture. Basically, if I couldn’t fit it in my car (which I barged over) or get mailed in a regular sized box, it didn’t make the trip to Juneau. I liked the idea of simplifying. Selling half of my books, most of my DVDS and a bunch of other stuff that was not being used and was taking up space. Part of the desire to move to Alaska was for a fresh start. To simplify. To breathe in the things in life that matter. To be outside and one with nature. To fall in love again with the Creator and with the Creation. To renew my poor opinion of mankind. 

This is starting to happen. 

One of my friends here called me a couple of weeks ago. His girlfriend was moving in and he had some extra furniture. He asked if we wanted it. A sectional. A bench. An ottoman. He topped it off with some cookware, pots, pans, plates, etc. Of course we sad yes. Later, I posted an ad on Next Door asking if anyone had any dishes that we could buy for the holidays, as we had company coming into town. I had to take the ad down because, within minutes, I had more texts and e mails for people willing to give us dishes or let us borrow dishes. Nothing in return. That’s just how people are here: generous, kind, unassuming. I guess that’s the norm here. People don’t throw stuff out. They don’t sell it at exorbitant prices. They just give it away. And why shouldn’t they? After all, we are all in this together.